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The matter of Antyllus, the son of Marcus Antonius.
The matter of Octavius’s return to Rome:
Perhaps I shall feel better tomorrow.
It is said that his mother dreamed that a god in the form of a serpent entered her, and that she conceived; that his father dreamed that the sun rose from the loins of his wife; and that miracles beyond understanding took place all over Italy at the moment of his birth.
Cf. Jesus Christ
for as long as this family endures it might know something of its place in the world that was Rome, in the days that are gone.
this body, which I have served with much care and art for so many years,
Orpheus broke the vow;
Thus even a dwarf who wears upon his head a thatch of hay may have been touched by a god, if he springs from the earth that Mars loved. . . . This Orpheus of whom I speak received no golden lyre, but only a poor torch from a humble father who would have given his life that his son might be worthy of his dream.
Augustus?
at Philippi, almost forgetting his song, he fought against one whom he thought to represent the powers of darkness.
Brutus?
the gods gave to him their golden lyre, and bade him play not as they but as he wished.
Free will?
that sea of oblivion which will receive us all.
Death
the Roman distaste for any learning that did not lead to a practical end;
I came to know that loss was the condition of our living.
that gradual diminution of pain, which is time’s only gift;
Herod, who knows that he rules Judaea only by the protection of Octavius Caesar;
I have projected a new work beyond the Life of Octavius Caesar, which Herod has commissioned. It shall be called “Conversations with Notable Romans,”
that inexorable fate that has overtaken our friend, and which pursues us all.
Octavius was at his bedside, and accompanied him as far as any can on that journey from which there is no return.
it seemed to me that her mind had never been violated by a serious thought.
he is the most prudent and cautious man, and will leave nothing to chance that may be gained by careful planning; yet he loves nothing more than to play at dice, and will willingly do so for hours upon end.
It is odd to wait in a powerless world, where nothing matters. In the world from which I came, all was power;
that most irresistible of all passions, the passion for power.
It is empty, the philosophers say; but they have not known power, as a eunuch has not known a woman, and thus can look upon her unmoved.
though he might forget that he was the Emperor, I would not forget that I was the Emperor’s daughter.
the woman who, late in life, discovered pleasure, and used men’s bodies as if they were the luxurious ointments of the gods; and who herself at last was used, to the intensest pleasure she had ever known.
They looked at me with that odd expression that goes with the recognition of power; it was not love, nor respect, nor hatred, nor even fear. It was something that I had not seen before, and I felt for a moment that I had just been born.
Do return to us; there is pleasure yet, before the night comes down upon us.
Marcus Antonius, whose name, even these many years after his death, still is honored by many of the citizens of Rome.
thus it was that I attended Sempronius Gracchus’s party. It became, indeed, the most famous party in Rome for many years, but for reasons that no one could have foreseen.
I was not to be free. One year and four months after the death of Marcus Agrippa, my father betrothed me to Tiberius Claudius Nero. He was the only one of my husbands whom I ever hated.
the power that you have is in your following,
Octavius Caesar has brought peace to this land; not since Actium has Roman raised sword against Roman. He has brought prosperity to the city and the countryside; not even the poorest of the people wants for food in the city, and those in the provinces prosper from the beneficences of Rome and Octavius Caesar. Octavius Caesar has brought liberty to the people; no longer need the slave live in fear of the arbitrary cruelty of his master, nor the poor man fear the venality of the rich, nor the responsible speaker fear the consequences of his words. And yet there is an ugliness in the air which, I
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For Octavius Caesar is Rome; and that, perhaps, is the tragedy of his life.
one with power can trust only those whom he knew and could trust before he had power;
I do not believe that Rome can endure the death of Octavius Caesar,
Herod had put to death one of his sons, whom he suspected of having plotted against him— which gave the Emperor occasion for another of his witticisms. “I had rather,” he said, “be Herod’s pig than his son.”
the lover to whom I gave pleasure was a victim of my own desire.
it is necessary to put him to torture to validate his testimony,
Octavius Caesar to Nicolaus of Damascus (A.D. 14)
I am in my seventy-sixth year; I have lived longer than I have wished to do,
mortal boredom does not augment longevity.
at last we have become something like friends.
deep within her Republican heart she has always felt that she married beneath her station, that she traded the dignity of an ancient title for the brute power of one whose authority was undeserved by his more humble name.
Livia was always intelligent enough to know that her son’s succession depended upon my undisputed retention of power,
her real concern is for that order of which we both are mere instruments.
For it seems to me now that when I read those books and wrote my words, I read and wrote of a man who bore my name but a man whom I hardly know. Strain as I might, I can hardly see him now; and when I glimpse him, he recedes as in a mist, eluding my most searching gaze. I wonder, if he saw me, would he recognize what he has become? Would he recognize the caricature that all men become of themselves? I do not believe that he would.
He offers no remedy for my disease of age, and does not subject me to those tortures for which so many so eagerly pay.
I restored liberty to the Republic, which had been oppressed by the tyranny of faction.
for much of my life has been lived in such secrecy. It has never been politic for me to let another know my heart.
It is fortunate that youth never recognizes its ignorance, for if it did it would not find the courage to get the habit of endurance. It is perhaps an instinct of the blood and flesh which prevents this knowledge and allows the boy to become the man who will live to see the folly of his existence.
